Resentment, Yet Not Hatred
by Ramzes
Summary: Aberforth never hated Albus. However, he never forgave him either.


_Disclaimer: All belongs to the wonderful Jo Rowling._

**Yo****u know, I've read a lot of fics about the young Dumbledore and I noticed that in almost all of them ,his brother hates him for what happened. While convincing in its own right, I simply don't think it's compliant with the books. Aberforth was a member of the Order, Albus told him about the mirror, and he hid in Hog's Head while the Ministry was looking for him. To me, all that does not spell hatred. Resentment, yes, but not hatred.**

Resentment Does Not Equal Hatred

It was almost dark, when Albus finally looked at the garden and sighed contentedly at its state: green and lovely, with bright flowers and just enough gnomes to keep it from being called immaculate. His mother had been very strict about the gnomes, but the truth was, Albus liked having a few of them around. The little creatures amused him.

Not many things could amuse him these days.

It was strange to think that such a simple things as gardening could give so much satisfaction to the one who had once dreamed of conquering the world.

The September night was warm and nice. Albus left the windows open and started making a dinner that he barely touched. Then, not bothering to clear the table, he just sat on its empty end and Summoned his notes: he was working on a project for a new spell that he needed to send to the Ministry in a few weeks at most.

Soon he was engrossed in the ever so interesting theories of Transfiguration, Charms, and the possible variations of combining the two – so engrossed that he didn't hear the _Alohomora_ that opened the front door. He, however, did hear the sound of the door of the room opening and looked up – just in time to catch a look at the shock on Aberforth's face before he turned and headed for the front door again.

"Wait!" Albus cried.

Aberforth did not stop, so Albus grabbed his wand from the nearby chair and Levitated him back in the room.

"Let me go, you git!"

Albus did indeed release him – placing him on one of the chairs around the table. Aberforth looked indignant and furious, but he knew that he stood no chance when his brother had a wand in his hand. Albus would just Levitate him back. So he stayed where he was, glaring.

Albus was looking at Aberforth intently. He hadn't seen him or heard of him since Ariana's funeral two years ago and he realized that Aberforth was now as tall as him. His whole face betrayed hatred and contempt – feelings Albus knew that he fully deserved, but they hurt him nonetheless. Anyway, what worried him most was the fact that Aberforth looked very unwell – thinner than he should be, with deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes and mouth. There was a huge bruise on his left cheek and judging by the stiffness of his pose, he seemed to have some injuries on his body as well. His eyes were clouded by hatred, but also by something that Albus recognized as physical pain.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Aberforth finally cracked down and said, "Let me go."

"You only just came."

"If I had known you I'd find you here, I wouldn't have come at all… Is he here as well? Decided to have a little break from your great plans, you two, didn't you?"

Albus suppressed a small sigh. That was just the reaction he had expected of Aberforth, but actually hearing him talking like that… The last two years that had passed without a single note or call on his brother's side should have been a deadly indicator of what Aberforth really felt, but he had clung – wrongly – to the little hope that time had dulled the edge of the younger's hostility.

"No, he isn't here," he said as calmly as he could. "I told you it was over and that I didn't want anything to do with him anymore."

Aberforth snorted. "That you did. And I didn't believe you. I'd heard a promise of you before and I believed it. Maybe I'm really as dumb as your boyfriend – excuse me, your ex-boyfriend – used to call me."

Albus felt an awful pang of guilt. Did Aberforth know? Did he suspect that Gellert had called him names that were far worse than dumb long before that fateful day? He had done it in front of Albus many times and Albus had never tried to stop him, too blinded by his dreams and his love and passion for the monster that was hiding behind Gellert's easy charm. Yet another betrayal. This one looked insignificant compared to the tragic events that had followed him, but it was a betrayal anyway.

He stood up. "Let me have a look at you," he said. "I take it that you haven't been to St. Mungo?"

"You take it right." Aberforth still sat without moving, but when Albus came near, his arms shot in the air, as if to defend himself against his brother's touch.

Albus finally lost his patience. "For Merlin's sake, Aberforth! I'm only trying to help you, not _Crucio_ you or anything!"

Bad choice of words… Gellert had tried – and succeed – to _Crucio_ Aberforth the day of the great quarrel, the day everything fell apart.

Aberforth's pale face flushed with hatred and defiance. "Go to hell," he growled.

"Since when haven't you eaten?" Albus asked and by the look that crossed his brother's face just in a flash, he knew that his guess had hit the mark. He had heard that Aberforth had been having it hard since his graduation from Hogwarts a few months ago, and he had often worried about him, but it had never occurred to him that his brother might have not had enough to eat. "Come on, eat something."

"I don't need anything from you," Aberforth growled. "I've been living on my own just fine – since you decided that we were too much of a nuisance for you, Mr Brilliant. Remember those times?"

He stood up abruptly – and the sudden movement turned out to be too much for him. Albus barely had time to catch him before he hit the floor.

With a startled curse, he Levitated Aberforth to his own bedroom and placed him on the bed. Removing his clothes, he frowned. Aberforth was even thinner than he had thought before and his chest and stomach were covered in wounds – some old and scarred, others fresh, some still bleeding. His heart clenched: for how long had his brother roamed away the country like this, sick and injured, and too proud to ask for help, too proud to accept it? Since when had he started hanging out with these shady friends of his that Albus had heard about?

Albus almost laughed. It was funny: he was the last man on earth entitled to pass judgment on anyone's friends. At least Aberforth's friendship with these dark characters had brought trouble only to himself, while Albus – brilliant, sensible Albus – had made a deadly poor choice in befriending Gellert. What a mistake and what a hard price to pay! And, which was worse, Ariana and Aberforth had paid that price, and not Albus himself. That had made Albus' lesson even harsher.

He started applying salves and healing charms to the unconscious body. Once or twice, Aberforth moaned and twitched, but he didn't wake up and that was good. Once awake, he would no doubt refuse Albus' ministrations and that might make him worse.

He applied salve on Aberforth's right shoulder. The skin was warm beneath his touch and that all of a sudden made him wonder since when hadn't he touched his brother's shoulder – in sympathy, comfort, or just care, even before Gellert came. He couldn't remember. Maybe it had been during his last days at Hogwarts, in a friendly boyish tussle, when the two of them had still been friends. Maybe it had been in the days immediately following their mother's death, when they had desperately needed comfort.

Alas, he was sure that it couldn't have been later – he had done his duty to Aberforth and Ariana, as he should have, but he had been resentful of them, he had blamed them for anchoring him here, for wasting away his brilliance… And then Gellert had come… and Albus had stopped even doing his duty to them.

His last touch of another human had been of his brother, though – the day of Ariana's funeral. It was not a nice touch – Aberforth's fist landing on his nose. But it was what he deserved and even far less than he deserved.

He sighed and relocated the shoulder, frowning: for how long had Aberforth been walking around like this? His brother moaned again.

"Calm down, calm down, it's okay," Albus whispered and to his astonishment, Aberforth did indeed calm down. For a brief moment, Albus realized that his brother must have guarded himself against any sort of affection or even a friendly gesture from anyone as long as he himself had. His stupid crush had left them both drained, deformed, not the way they should have been. And it had left Ariana dead on the floor…

He stepped aside and inspected his work closely. The result satisfied him. Aberforth would pull through and there even wouldn't be too many scars. He was already breathing more easily. Albus covered him with a blanket and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Ab."

And he went back to his work.

From time to time, he went checking on Aberforth, making sure that he was all right, and it was well past midnight, when he entered the room to find him wide awake.

"What happened?"

"You passed out."

Aberforth gave a harsh laughter. "I do not pass out.'

Albus shrugged. "Anything you say. How are you? Better?"

"Great," Aberforth grunted.

Albus nodded and sat in a chair in the foot of the bed.

For a while, no one spoke.

"I don't need your help and I certainly didn't ask for it," Aberforth suddenly said. "I'll leave first thing in the morning."

"No," Albus said. "I'll leave. Since I'm the one who's making your stay here too hard to bear, it's only fair." He sighed. "Do you really hate me this much?"

Aberforth stared at him, unable to believe that he dared ask such a question.

"And you dare ask?" he asked in a surprisingly level voice. "How could you!" he suddenly exploded, and Albus knew he wasn't referring to his audacity.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it is not enough, but I'm sorry."

Aberforth sighed, suddenly feeling too tired to argue. "I know you are."

"I never planned it this way."

"I believe, and whole-heartedly at that, that it's true. If I didn't, you wouldn't get it so light, with only your nose broken. But what do intentions matter?"

Albus was about to say something and then thought better of it. In this case, Aberforth was right.

His brother nodded, as if he knew what Albus was thinking. "You know, that's the main difference between the two of us," he said. "I could never understand your infatuation with reasons and motivation, and so on. You screw motivations, and you face facts, and the explanation of the reasons does not change them. All you get to know is why the person is such a son of a bitch, but that remedies nothing."

His face was hidden in the shadows and Albus could not read his eyes. He had always though that Aberforth's reality was too simplified, too naïve, but now it sounded awfully true.

"I'll bring you something to eat," he finally said.

"I told you, I don't want – "

"For Merlin's sake, Ab! It's not _my_ food. The house is yours, as well as mine, the gold is yours, as well as mine, and the food is yours, as well as mine. Do have something to eat before you _not_ pass out again."

The two identical pairs of blue eyes met in a silent battle of wills and this time, Aberforth gave up. Albus seemed to have recovered mentally from the terrible shock of Ariana's death, he seemed as controlled and sure of himself as ever and he was right, everything here belonged to Aberforth as much as it did to Albus.

Besides, Aberforth _was_ hungry.

"Fine," he said grumpily.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

_A few __weeks later…_

Albus did not leave and neither did Aberforth. However, most of the time they pretended they didn't notice each other – not unlike the last time they had shared a house, only this time, there was no Ariana chattering and making the house alive after their mother's death. It sickened Albus to think how he had resented the sounds of Ariana and Aberforth's silly conversations and how they had suffocated him. _Condemned to spend my whole life listening to this, _he had thought_, oh Merlin!_ Now, it was the silence that suffocated him and this time, there was no Gellert for him to escape to.

Not that he would have, anyway. Albus still couldn't believe how blind he had been. He didn't even have the excuse of being fooled by Gellert. Because Gellert hadn't fooled him. Gellert had never pretended that he was something different than what he was. Albus just hadn't wanted to see it, and it had been right in front of him all the time, there had been nothing hidden. Aberforth had seen it, Ariana had instinctively felt it – she had immediately disliked Gellert and had panicked each time she saw him] at the time, Albus had thought it was just her scare of strangers, or maybe a projection of Aberforth's dislike, but now he wasn't so sure, - but the brilliant Albus Dumbledore had simply refused to acknowledge it.

On the surface, Aberforth was a surprisingly little disturbance – he avoided Albus as much as possible, spent most of his time outside, and even didn't pick up quarrels. In fact, he kept mostly to himself and that should come as a relief to Albus, who was free to devote himself to his work, free of the fear that maybe Aberforth was lying unconscious, bleeding to death in only Merlin knew what ditch.

It was not a relief.

Besides, with Aberforth's return the nightmares had returned, crueler than ever. Albus was quite accustomed to them by now – they visited him a few times a month, - but now, they came a few times a week, leaving him to wake trembling and terrified – uncontrollable, _unreasonable_ terror, when he felt as if he were locked in a cabin of a ship filling implacably with water; the events of those two months were mixed, but unmistakable, his frantic desire to _undo_ what he had done with his arrogance and stupidity again unfulfilled, his soul trapped forever to his guilt.

In his dreams, he saw Gellert – brilliant, arrogant and so handsome that his heart ached – telling him about his plans of grandeur and superiority, his eyes alight with eagerness; he saw Aberforth, pale with rage, shouting that they were both mad and that Ariana couldn't be dragged alongside; he saw the flash of the wands and Aberforth's face contorted in agony, and that awful moment – was it ten seconds, or fifteen? – when he had _hesitated_ before defying Gellert, before lifting the Cruciatus Curse from Aberforth. And then, the awful fight, and Gellert's grin, showing that he was enjoying the pain Abeforth and Ariana were in…

"No! Leave them! Please, don't hurt them, do it to me instead!"

But Gellert wouldn't do that – he wanted Albus to his side, and the ones he wanted to hurt were the two people who stood in the way of that – the encumbrances, as Albus himself had called them in front of him.

"Albus! Albus, wake up! Wake up, it's only a dream!"

He snapped back to wakefulness. In the light of a single candle, Aberforth was leaning over him, his face awfully pale, his eyes wide. "You were having a nightmare," he whispered.

"Yes… " Albus croaked through dry lips. "Yes, I know."

Aberforth stood up. "I'll bring you some water," he said, but Albus caught his hand. Aberforth knew what this gesture meant: _stay here, don't leave me alone, not yet_. He shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed. Albus wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve. Aberforth did not light another candle – he had enough experience with Ariana to know that Albus would feel better in the dim light.

The silence lingered. It was not a comfortable one, but it was not an uncomfortable one either. Finally, Albus looked at Aberforth. "I had a _Muffliato_ placed over the room," he said.

"I know," Aberforth said, "yesterday night, I accidentally broke a dish right next to your door and I thought I have disturbed your sleep, but you didn't give any indication that you have heard something… This night, I checked for _Muffliato_ and it was there… How often do you have these dreams?"

"On a regular basis."

"You were screaming our names – Ariana's, mine… and his."

"I suppose I did."

Looking around the room, Aberforth noticed an empty glass. He Summoned it and cast an _Aguamenti_ spell to fill it with water. Albus drank thirstily.

"Do you still care for him?"

"No."

The answer was spontaneous and sincere. Albus had been shocked, when, two years ago, he had realized how little he cared for Gellert now. All his feelings had disappeared in just one moment. It was bounded to do with any great love, he supposed, when this love was willingly blind. It just died. Something happened and the feeling died. For Albus, it had been the moment when he could no longer ignore what Gellert was – the moment, when he had reacted to Aberforth's strong, but basically harmless curse with a _Cruciatus_.

"You didn't ask me for help."

Aberforth looked puzzled. "What?"

"When he first hit you. You were trashing around in pain, you were screaming your lungs out, but you never asked me for help."

"I didn't believe you'd help me," Aberforth answered simply. He had seen his brother taking Grindelwald's side against him too many times – in fact, each time they had a confrontation.

Albus felt as if Aberforth had just punched him – but he knew that had not been his brother's intention. Aberforth hit with his wand and fists, not words. He was just being honest. And if Albus didn't want to be told, he shouldn't have asked.

"Why, Ab?" he asked quietly. "Why did you wake me?"

Aberforth shrugged. In all honesty, he didn't know the answer. He had thought that he'd like seeing Albus suffering – Merlin knew that the git deserved it, - but actually witnessing it was quite another thing. Maybe just seeing that his brother was as affected by the tragedy as he himself was had turned out to be enough for him; or maybe it was just the sight of Albus thrashing around, a captive of his own demons reminded him too much of Ariana's fits. He didn't know and honestly, he didn't care. Delving into things was Albus' cup of tea, not his.

"Go back to sleep," he said and Levitated a chair next to the bed. "I'll stay for a while, just to make sure that he won't make a second visit this night. And when you wake up, I expect of you to be your old self, so I can wholeheartedly hate you."

Albus smiled slightly. "I'll do my best."

He was just starting to drift off, when Aberforth's voice startled him, "Albus?"

"Yes?"

"I don't really hate you. But I haven't forgiven you either. I don't think I ever will."

Albus knew he wouldn't. How could he, when Albus couldn't, and wouldn't forgive himself? He knew he fully deserved his brother's resentment and hatred and yet, he was glad that he would only have the resentment.

It was a bitter comfort, but better than no comfort at all.


End file.
